Love Scenes
by Chapin CSI
Summary: Snippets, short stories, UNRELATED except where indicated. New: It's wrong, wrong, wrong! Summary: Of all the things he could have done in Delta 4, Jim Kirk chose the absolute worst. And now he wants to do it again. And again.
1. It's Pon Farr time!

Love Scenes

S/J

Snippets -all slash and unrelated except where indicated.

1. It's Pon Farr Time!

The title is self-explanatory.

* * *

The richness of the chamber took Jim by surprise.

After hearing so much about Vulcans' near-Spartan lifestyle, he'd been expecting to see a couple of blankets on the ground and little else. But there was nothing Spartan about this room; under the muted light of a dozen candles strategically placed, he saw thick furs covering every surface, and brocade curtains that added to the intimacy of the occasion. And then there was the bed. Huge and luxurious, it would have tempted even the most reluctant human.

Even a human who still had a few misgivings about entering into a monogamous relationship with his (undeniably sexy) First Officer…

But Jim felt his reticence start to fade. He liked Vulcans' sense of tradition. They evidently spared no expense when it came to their first time in the sack, and Jim approved of it whole-heartedly. His own first time, which had taken place in the back of a car, really paled by comparison.

"So!" he said, eagerly taking off his shirt, "Do you want me to wear something or say something, or what?"

Somewhere in the room, Spock responded.

"Are you mocking the occasion, Jim?"

"Hey, you're the one with all these traditions to fulfill," Jim replied, "I'm willing to be flexible, here."

And suddenly, Spock was right there behind him, and the feel of his warm body sent shivers down Kirk's spine.

"There is no need for you to wear or say anything;" Spock said huskily, "Flexibility _is_ all that is required."

* * *

The End


	2. The Trouble with Wrinkles

The Trouble with Wrinkles

Note:

Deep Space Station K7 appeared in the episode 'The Trouble with Tribbles'.

* * *

_"Stardate 2259.20. The Enterprise is in orbit of Deep Space Station K7. The crew has been granted shore leave and is beaming down in groups of twelve. Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock left in the first group, leaving me, Montgomery Scott, as Acting Captain of the Enterprise. _

_I'll finally have time to read my technical magazines!_

------

_FOR A SMOOTH, YOUTHFUL SKIN, USE GOBYL!_

The ad had caught Jim's attention the moment he and his crew stepped into the multi-unit market.

_FOR A SMOOTH, YOUTHFUL SKIN -_

The words had brought back the memory of an old man touching his face. Six months had passed since his first and only encounter with the elder Spock, but he still remembered the feel of those rough, leathery fingers. It was obvious that Spock had led a life full of hardship, and the Jim Kirk of that alternate universe had done little to help.

Well, _this_ Jim Kirk was determined not to let that happen in this universe. He wasn't looking forward to spending his old age with a man whose fingers felt like dry tree-bark; if the Gobyl could prevent that, then he would buy a shipload if necessary.

Determined, Jim ditched Spock and the rest of the group at the first chance he got, and retraced his steps in search of the store.

The Cylamite behind the counter beamed at Jim.

"May I help you, Earthling?"

Jim didn't immediately reply. He could never get used to Cylamites. They were humanoids with bald heads studded with eyes -twelve in total - and a capacity to change their sexual identity at will. With the ability to focus on twelve different objects at the same time, Cylamites were the perfect store attendants; it was just a bit unnerving to see all those eyes winking and rolling in all directions at a time, not to mention the fact that a female attendant could suddenly turn into a male.

Right now, the Cylamite's voice was definitely female, and two of her eyes were focused on Jim while the rest checked on her other customers.

"Sir?" she prompted.

"Yes," Jim said at last. "It's about the, hum, Gobyl. I was wondering if I could give it to a Vulcan. A male Vulcan."

She took a glass jar from behind the counter and placed it within Jim's reach.

She smiled.

"If it's for the handsome Vulcan I saw you with just a moment ago, then I don't think he needs it."

Jim winced. There was obviously very little these Cylatimes didn't notice, even at a distance.

"He might need it in the future. I met his future self," he added uncomfortably. "His skin was dry and, hum, kind of leathery."

"His future self?" Four eyes looked appraisingly at him this time.

"There was a time travel incident," Jim said. "I suppose it's a difficult concept for a civilian to grasp, but -"

"Oh, not at all. Time travel is something we are familiar with in our line of work." She lowered her voice to add, "You wouldn't believe the number of clients who purposefully go back in time to prevent themselves from buying the wrong gift. It doesn't always work, however," she sighed. "Tell me; was it an 'alternate universe future self' that you met, or a 'parallel universe future self'?"

"Well," Jim frowned, "Actually -"

"Or maybe a 'mirror universe future self'?" she interrupted. "Oh, I hope it wasn't a 'bizarro universe future self'," she added with feeling. "Those are truly awful. Tell me: Did he seem to recognize you right away?"

"He did, although he mentioned I was brown-eyed in _his_ universe."

"Oh, then it must have been an 'alternate universe future self'," she said confidently. Now that she knew what she was dealing with, she focused only one eye on him. "You want to give him Gobyl to ensure he has a better skin texture in the future? That is so generous of you!" she gushed. "It's a gift that others will surely enjoy!"

"Others?" Jim frowned.

"Yes. Vulcans, as you know, can live up to one-hundred-and-seventy-five years. There have been instances of Vulcans living up to two-hundred-and-fifty, although those are rare cases." She was silent for a moment. "If, as you say, your Vulcan's skin looked leathery, it probably means he was well over one-hundred-and-fifty."

"One-hundred-and-fifty?" Jim repeated mechanically. "But by the time he's one-hundred-and-fifty, I'm gonna be -"

"Dead and buried," the Cylamite said brightly. She eyed him closely, "If you take care of yourself, you might live well into your eighties, Earthling. And you will be so lucky, having a lover who will look half-your age even if he's older than you."

"He will look half-my-age, while I -" Jim gulped. He paused for a second, then he determinedly pulled a wallet from his pocket. "I'm taking six jars of these," he said, eyeing the jar of Goblyn on the counter."

"Shall I wrap them up?"

"Don't bother," Jim muttered, "They're not for him –they're for _me_."

* * *

The End


	3. Kiss the Vulcan!

Kiss the Vulcan!!!

This is my version of an episode of The Original Series, 'Plato's children'. I really don't remember the episode, but the ST wiki says: _'The Enterprise encounters the 'Platonians', a race with powerful psychokinetic abilities. Their leader, Parmen uses his mental powers to intimidate and humiliate Captain Kirk and Spock into compliance. At one point he brings in Uhura and Chapel, and split them into pairs: Uhura and Kirk, and Chapel and Spock. Then Parmen tries to force him into kissing. The two couples struggle in vain to avoid kissing…'_

In my version, Uhura and Chapel are safe in the Enterprise, with only Jim and Spock facing the 'ordeal'.

* * *

"…YOU SHALL KISS THE VULCAN!" Parmen cried.

"What?" Jim asked indignantly. It was one thing to be forced to sing and dance; to kiss another man was taking things too far.

Jim looked around, fully expecting Spock to back him up on this, but the Vulcan didn't. Granted, with his wrists bound to the wall there was little Spock could really do, but he could have said something instead of simply sitting there. Jim himself couldn't do much either -not with his wrists tightly bound with chains- but he was willing to put up a fight.

Angrily, he took a step in his captor's direction, "Now, you wait a minute, Parmen -"

"YOU SHALL DO AS I SAY!" Parmen cried. He waved his hand at Jim and the young Captain suddenly fell on his knees. Another wave from Parmen, and Jim found himself dragging himself in Spock's direction till he was only a few inches away. "You shall kiss the Vulcan!"

"N-no!" Jim growled. He was breaking into a sweat, so great were his efforts to resist Parmen's mental enticements. It wasn't easy, considering how appealing Spock's lips looked to him right now. 'Perfect lips', a voice in his head said. 'Think of all the times you've wondered what they taste like...'

"Nnnnnno!" Jim groaned. He couldn't lose control like this. Spock would never forgive him -

Spock, on the other hand, seemed quite unperturbed about the whole situation. He actually looked a bit bored. He was gazing down at Jim's mouth with some curiosity, but that was all.

At some point he did move, however, and Jim was surprised to see him lean in his direction.

"Resist, Spock!" Jim urged, "Don't let him control you!"

Spock calmly looked into the Captain's blue eyes.

"It is quite all right, Captain," he said quietly. "Parmen cannot control my mind."

Jim frowned. "He can't?"

"I have trained myself to resist this type of manipulation."

"Then... Why are you getting closer?"

"Because it is only a kiss, Captain," Spock said as if the answer were obvious. He dropped his gaze back to Jim's mouth. "I fail to understand what the problem is."

Jim was stunned by Spock's reply. And yet... Come to think of it, what was the problem, really? If Parden had ordered them to kill each other, well, then they'd have a huge problem. But it was only a kiss.

"Oh," Jim said, suddenly enlightened. "Well, Spock; as long as you don't mind -" and he eagerly cut the distance between the two.

Parmen looked in astonishment as Kirk and Spock's mouths met in a searing kiss.

"Wait!" he cried. "What are you doing? You are not supposed to like that!" Helplessly, he saw Kirk and Spock struggle with their restraints again, but only in their eagerness to reach for each other. "No, no, NO! Listen to me, Jim Kirk! You are NOT to kiss the Vulcan! You are NOT to -" Frantically, he waved both hands in Jim's direction -

But Jim was well beyond his control now.

* * *

The End


	4. Cooking up a Storm

Cooking up a Storm

A follow up to 'It's Pon Farr Time!'

* * *

Jim was sitting in bed, watching Spock. The young Vulcan was kneeling on the floor, holding a copper ladle over a brazier. With his free hand, he picked one of two glass vials he'd set on the floor and poured a honey-like substance into the ladle. He waited a moment, then picked the second vial, this one holding a reddish liquid that fizzed when it came in contact with the concoction already bubbling in the ladle.

Soon, a pleasant smell spread through the room.

"You could have just borrowed some incense from Sulu," Jim said off-handedly.

Spock didn't seem to hear.

Jim was starting to fidget. He had waited months for this moment so a few more minutes shouldn't really matter, but Spock's actions were mystifying to say the least. They were finally going to have sex and what did Spock do? Cook!

Spock finally seemed to remember that he wasn't alone in the room. He raised his gaze.

"Are you nervous, Jim?"

"Me? No," Jim said, meaning just the opposite. He was about to have sex with a Vulcan -hell, he was about have sex with a _male. _Of course he was nervous!

But Spock took his reply literally.

"I am glad," he said good-naturedly.

Jim leant forward. "So. Are you done?"

Spock lifted the ladle and inspected its contents.

"It is almost ready," he said confidently. He poured the resulting goo into a small jar, turned off the brazier, and then rose, carefully holding the jar by its neck. "Now we let it cool."

"What's that, anyway?" Jim said. "It's not dinner, right? 'Cause if it is, I'll have to ask Scotty to beam me some food." He smiled at his own joke, but the smile faded when he noticed the intense look in Spock's eyes as he walked back to the bed.

"It is not dinner, Jim," The Vulcan said softly. "It is our t'hy' cha-sbah"

Jim didn't even try to repeat the word. "So, what is it?"

"Vulcan lube." Spock took a step closer to the bed, "I am ready to go where no man has gone before, Jim."

* * *

The end


	5. The Power of Gobyl

The Power of Gobyl

A follow-up to The Problem with Wrinkles.

Romance.

Jim and Spock discuss Gobyl cream. I had other versions for Spock's last line and included them at the end.

* * *

Jim Kirk wiped a corner of the steamed-up mirror and, leaning closer, took a critical look at himself.

Under the stark lights of the bathroom, every scar on his face stood out.

Old or recent, they were reminders of countless brawls, and to look at them was to look at James T. Kirk's life, from his early school days to his days as Captain of the Enterprise.

If pressed, Jim would have admitted those scars were like trophies -he'd won them just as his opponents had won theirs- but he would have also pointed out that he rarely noticed them. They were there, and that was ok. They certainly didn't bother him.

So how to account for the fact that lately, he'd been studying them up close, looking for any change, any visible alteration? It wasn't like he expected those scars to disappear –no way. But after two weeks of using Gobyl, he needed some proof that the cream was any good, and that putting on that sticky mess wasn't just a colossal waste of time.

So far there were no visible changes, but that probably had less to do with the quality of the cream than with his own use of it. He was supposed to leave it overnight, for instance, but come on, he couldn't do that. As Captain, he had to be available at all times, day or night; what would his crew say if he appeared on the bridge with shiny stuff smeared all over his face?

Then, there was Spock, who often spent the night over. He trusted Spock with his life, but he wasn't about to let him know about this; it wasn't the kind of thing Spock (or any guy, for that matter), would understand.

All he had were a few minutes every morning, just before he shaved.

Shaking his head, Jim reached for the Gobyl. A few minutes would have to do.

----

A while later, Jim was staring into the mirror, a myriad of thoughts occupying his mind -

_'Spock's shift's about over; maybe we could meet for breakfast----- _

_No news yet on that Klingon vessel that's been hovering near the border ----_

_----Unless he orders that thing he ate last time, that crap that looks like grass ----- _

_Bones says the crew's vitamin intake is too low -----_

_----If the Klingons cross the border, Starfleet will expect us to repel them -------- _

_----and what does Bones expects me to do, anyway? Force-feed the crew?-----_

_---Spock's vitamin intake's ok, he says; his Vulcan diet gives him all the vitamins he needs -but I provide him the protein, ha, ha----_

_---The Enterprise is technically out of commission, but we're the ones closest to the border------ _

_----Spock –he sure smells good for a guy who eats boiled grass -----_

_---Those Klingons better stay on their side of the border -at least till Scotty finishes the repairs--------_

_----Spock... m__aybe we should just skip breakfast… get him into bed… Have him all to myself.....Oh, yeah. Have his body writhing under mine, his back arching against me... Make him scream ------_

_---Klingons, you'd better stay on your side of the border for another couple of hours --------_

_----I always make him scream –not words, though. Not words that I can understand, just that Vulcan gibberish. And why can't the man scream my name now and then, for God's sake? I scream his often enough -_

Suddenly, something moved behind Jim, a blurry shape caught in the mirror -

"Good morning."

"Shit!" Jim jumped, almost dropping the Gobyl. "Spock! How many times -! What did you do, materialize inside my bathroom?"

Spock barely raised an eyebrow.

"Materialize? Captain, I would never use the transporter for a private endeavor. I took the lift, and then I walked here."

"Yeah, well, you could cough or make some kind of noise, instead of just creeping in -"

"My apologies," Spock said, though he didn't look precisely repentant. If Jim didn't know better, he'd say Spock looked _amused_. But the amusement seemed to turn to puzzlement, the longer he looked at Kirk. Finally, he reached out and touched Jim's face, then looked curiously at his fingertips. "What is this, Captain?"

"We're not on the bridge, Spock," Jim said evasively, "You can call me Jim."

"Jim," Spock nodded obediently. "Jim, there is something on your face."

"Yeah, my nose." Jim turned back to the sink and made himself busy, first putting the jar of Gobyl in a corner, then picking his razor. "You know, it's been six months, Spock," he said gruffly; "You should have learned by now not to call me Captain when we're alone -"

"I agree, Jim." Spock said. He was glancing around Jim's bathroom, and finally his eyes settled on the jar on the sink. "May I inquire what that is, Jim?"

"So, how was your shift, Spock? I gather Starfleet didn't send any news on the Klingon vessel -"

"Jim, may I ask you why you have a jar of Gobyl, and why you are trying to distract my attention from it?"

"I don't have any Gobyl -"

"Yes, you do," Spock countered calmly, "I see the jar, and I have detected traces of a substance consistent with Gobyl cream on your face."

Jim considered stalling but what was the use?

"All right, Spock; I'm using Gobyl. I'm using it as a shaving cream, Ok?"

Spock sneaked an arm past Jim and picked up the jar.

"Jim, you already have what I believe is an excellent shaving cream," he said reasonably; "Why would you need another? And why would you use a product that was not intended for the purpose of shaving?" He turned the jar in his hands, eyed the label. His eyebrow rose. "Are you using this as a Beautifying Aide?"

Jim cringed. "Spock, sometimes I wish you wouldn't be so direct -"

"I am only quoting the description on the label."

Again, Jim paused while he considered the possibility of lying to Spock and getting away with it…

He gave it up. There were things he could easily get away with at the bridge, but not here.

"All right, Spock; you got me. I'm not using it as a shaving cream. Satisfied?"

Spock didn't reply; he merely tilted his head. Jim's reply was incomplete and he was waiting for the rest.

Jim looked sourly at him.

"Ok, fine; I'm using it because -because I want to look good in my old age," he mumbled those last words but Spock understood them just fine.

"_Old age?_"

"Somebody told me that you're gonna look half-my-age when I'm eighty," Jim said reluctantly, "I just thought I should do something about it."

Spock seemed sincerely surprised.

"I appreciate your efforts, Jim. May I say, however, that you hardly need to improve your looks in any way?"

It was Jim's turn to be surprised. He still couldn't get used to Spock sprouting phrases like this. The Vulcan wasn't demonstrative as a rule, but when he decided to be, he said and did the most unexpected things.

"Thank you, Spock," he grinned.

"Besides," Spock continued, "Ship Captains have the highest mortality rate in the Federation, Jim; old age should hardly be at the top of your concerns right now."

Jim almost choked.

"Gee, Spock; are you trying to raise my spirits or crush them?"

"Neither, Jim," Spock said calmly. "My intention is to make you understand that I shall cherish you every minute and every second you spend in this universe -or any other- regardless of your -" and he glanced at the label again, "Skin texture."

Jim gaped. No; he would never get used to Spock telling him things like this. He was moved, but he was careful not to let it show; they were _guys_ after all.

"So," he said. "You want me to get rid of the Gobyl?"

Spock didn't reply; he had opened the jar and now he was thoughtfully poking at its contents.

Looking at him, Jim came to a sudden realization.

"Wait a minute," he said suspiciously. "How come you recognized the Gobyl right away?"

"Oh, I've seen it before, Jim. Mr. Scott has a stash of it and uses it constantly. He assures me it is what keeps the Enterprise engines in top form."

* * *

The End

Alternate versions of Spock's last line:

"Vulcans created the formula, Jim."

Or,

"I started using after I saw what I would look like in the future, Jim."


	6. Genthyan Roses

Genthyan roses

Note: Some of McCoy's words to Spock were taken from an actual episode from TOS (Requiem for Methuselah).

* * *

_Stardate 2260 Captain's private log. Supplement._

_As I stated before, Mr. Spock and Mr. Sulu are beaming down to Virna 5 to do a routine study on the local flora and fauna. Now, having only found out about the existence of herbal plants in the planet, Doctor McCoy has announced his intention to go too. _

_Which means I'd better join them. _

_Just in case. _

It wasn't the fact that large areas of Virna 5 were still unexplored, or that Mr. Sulu was only an amateur botanist who might not readily differentiate between a poisonous plant and a perfectly safe one. No. What had Jim worried was the possibility that Mr. Spock might snap and inflict some bodily harm on Dr. McCoy.

And if he did, then Jim would have to find some way to let Spock off the hook, 'cause McCoy had been asking for it for a long time.

Not one to mince words when it came to criticizing others, McCoy had found ample fodder in the First Officer's actions. Even Spock's stoicism had come under attack. But it was the Vulcan's supposed lack of empathy towards humans that had stirred McCoy's latest wave of criticism. A few days before, a love affair turned sour had put two members of the Science Department at odds with each other, and their antics had warranted them a three-day suspension from Mr. Spock.

McCoy had argued from the start that the reprimand was too severe, and that anyone with the slightest notion of human feeling would have seen the case differently.

----

Just as Jim had feared, McCoy was still harping on the matter as they strolled down the dusty roads of Virna 5.

"…You just went too far, Spock," McCoy was saying, "You punished a boy and a girl just for being in love."

Jim glanced at Spock, who happened to be looking in his direction just then.

They'd been doing that lately -look at each other, wordlessly size up the situation they were in and then act on it. It was useful, especially when they were on the bridge, facing a dangerous situation. But there were times when Jim would look at Spock and try to size up the man himself. Sometimes he thought he knew what Spock's mood was just by looking at him, but he suspected that those fleeting moments, (if correct) were probably due less to his own perception abilities than to Spock's temporary carelessness.

Spock's face revealed nothing today –not even annoyance. Stoicism was his trademark, and Jim had to admit that it came in handy when it came to dealing with McCoy.

They held each other's gaze for a couple of seconds, then looked away.

Spock's aloof silence only piqued the Doctor's irritation.

"Do you know what your problem is, Spock?" McCoy said. "You've never been in love."

Jim wondered why McCoy, of all people, would take the lovers' side in this matter. He'd had one hell of a divorce after all, and he'd had a dismal opinion of relationships ever since. But the more McCoy spoke, the clearer his viewpoint became: No matter how badly things might turn out in a love affair, it was still worth it. More importantly, humans lived life to the fullest, while Vulcans simply existed in a limbo of science and discipline.

"I feel sorry for you, Spock," McCoy said in a slightly patronizing tone, "You don't know what you're missing. The joys of love; the intense happiness… the sense of belonging -"

Spock listened politely.

"Be that as it may, Doctor," he replied, "I cannot allow my officers to let their personal affairs disrupt their work. Whatever they do in their private time should remain exactly that: private."

"Aw, Spock, these are _kids_ we're talking about." McCoy glanced at Jim, "Help me out here, Jim -"

"Sorry, Bones, I'm not getting involved in that." Actually, it was McCoy that Jim was considering pulling aside for a talk. As Chief Medical Doctor, McCoy had the right to meddle in other department's affairs if the crew's well-being was put into question, but that wasn't the case here. Those kids had deserved the suspension.

Had Spock reacted with anything but aloof detachment, Jim would have intervened long ago. But Spock rarely deigned to engage in the discussion; right now, for instance, he was more interested in the soil samples he'd collected than in McCoy's lecture. The mineral contents were similar to those of his native Vulcan, he'd said, and he was hoping to study them further.

He was also helping Mr. Sulu, the amateur botanist, classify the local flora.

It was Sulu who finally managed to interrupt McCoy's speech.

They'd entered a meadow filled with what looked like rosebushes, and the sight prompted Sulu to do a quick scan with his tricorder.

"Genthyan Roses," he said in awe. "They're extremely valuable, Captain. They're used as ornaments, mostly, but…" he lowered his voice, "They're also reputed to act as a powerful aphrodisiac."

"They don't work," McCoy said flatly. The off-handed comment drew everybody's attention, which prompted him to add, a bit defensively, "I've heard."

"You've _heard_," Jim said skeptically.

"Yes, Jim, I heard. Actually, I read about it. All the big pharmaceutical companies did every possible study, then reached the same conclusion: The flowers have no physical effect on humans."

"I'll collect some samples anyway," Sulu said. "For the ship's garden, I mean," he added self-consciously. He set out to work with Mr. Spock's help.

Unlike most rosebushes, the Genthyans had not thorns. The stalks bled a copious yellowish sap at the merest contact, but if this was the flower's protective device, then it failed miserably; Sulu simply wiped his hands off his tunic and kept working.

Mr. Spock, on the other hand, examined the sap on his palm closely.

"Most interesting," he said. "It smells like honey. And its texture is consistent with a... a..." He hesitated, and then, to everybody's surprise, he doubled up as if in pain.

"Spock!" McCoy rushed to Spock side and caught him just as his legs buckled under him. "Spock, you ok?"

"N-n-no," Spock said with difficulty. "It... it hurts..."

Jim turned to Sulu. "You're ok?"

Bewildered, Sulu looked at his own hand, then down at himself. "I don't feel anything, Captain," he said.

"You'd better go back to the ship," McCoy said urgently. "Go straight to Sickbay for a general checkup!"

"Aye, Doctor," Sulu said, pulling his communicator. Moments later, he was gone.

Jim looked back at Spock. The Vulcan was on his knees, taking deep breaths in his effort to get back to normal.

McCoy was taking his vitals.

"It must be an allergic reaction, Jim. His physiology seems normal –or as normal as a Vulcan's physiology can be," he added snidely.

"You said the Genthyans were harmless!"

"To humans," McCoy retorted. "And they only did studies on the flowers, not the stalks!" He put a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Spock? Can you hear me? SPOCK!"

"I can… hear you… quite well, Doctor," Spock said with some difficulty. "Yelling is… unnecessary,"

"How do you feel?"

"I... am not… in pain... anymore. I… I'd better -" He tried to rise, but he was too weak to do it on his own. McCoy immediately put an arm around him and helped him to his feet.

"Shouldn't he be lying down?" Jim asked. He'd never seen Spock act like this. He was practically clinging to Dr. McCoy.

McCoy was concerned, too.

"You ok, Spock?"

"No, Doctor," Spock said slowly. "Something... strange... Something..." He looked down at his own hand, the one clinging to Dr. McCoy's arm. Tentatively, he dug his fingers into McCoy's flesh. "Interesting," he said. "The touch of your skin..."

"What, Spock? What?"

"I never thought it could be so comforting," Spock said in wonder. "So... Moving." He raised his gaze. He blinked, as if he were looking at McCoy for the first time. "So confusing." He gulped. "I... I am feeling drawn to you, Doctor."

"What do you mean?" McCoy blurted out. He pulled his arm back but Spock refused to let go. "Spock? What the hell -" McCoy looked up and whatever he saw on Spock's face seemed to scare the hell out of him. He took a step back and then another, but Spock merely followed. Then Spock kept moving, practically forcing McCoy to stumble backwards.

McCoy looked around in a panic, "God damn it, Jim; do something!"

"It's the Genthyans, Bones," Jim said. He was just as astonished as McCoy, but he couldn't help seeing the humor of the situation too. "It looks like they work, after all."

"Yeah, I can see that, you genius! GET HIM OFF ME!"

"Just humor him," Jim said, "As long as he doesn't get violent there's not much I can do."

"Forget about violent! Look what he's doing!"

Jim looked, all right. Spock had managed to corner McCoy against a tree. He wasn't really doing anything except holding on to McCoy's arm, but he was standing too close for comfort. Actually, he was standing close enough to kiss McCoy, and if he didn't was probably because he just didn't know how to.

Yet.

Jim felt oddly moved by the scene. He'd never seen Spock like this. Well, actually, he had, months before, when Spock had him pinned down just as effectively -except that his actions back then had been guided by rage –murderous rage- not longing. Spock looked passionate now; he looked –_Hot. _

Jim gulped with some difficulty. Oh, to be the object of that passion... To have those hands close on him again, not with anger but with desire…

But McCoy wasn't as thrilled. He was red to the roots of his hair.

"DAMN IT JIM!" he yelled, "STUN HIM! KNOCK HIM OVER THE HEAD! JUST GET HIM OFF ME!"

"He's under the influence," Jim said, "It's not like he's gonna hurt you."

"He is right, Doctor," Spock said, "I would never hurt you. _Love_ is strange, is it not? Overpowering. You were right, all along. _I_ did not know what I was missing." He took a step closer to McCoy. "But I am willing to learn -"

"Ok, that's enough!" McCoy protested, and this time he managed to push Spock away.

He stormed past Jim.

"Where are you going?" Jim asked.

"Back to the ship!"

"What about Spock?"

"_You_ help him," McCoy retorted. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll see what I can find about Genthyan roses and Vulcans. If he gets worse, I'll send you a nurse with a tranquilizer!" He pulled his communicator, "Scotty?" he barked, "Beam me up! Now!"

"Bones -!" Jim called out, but it was too late. McCoy was gone.

Jim glanced back at Spock. The Vulcan was looking at the space that Doctor McCoy had occupied not so long ago. To Jim's surprise, Spock snorted. At least, it sounded just like a snort.

"Well!" Spock said, his voice steady again, "I trust Doctor McCoy will keep his distance from now on."

Jim looked up sharply. Spock looked like he always did; composed and dignified.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"You were only pretending," Jim said.

"Yes, Captain."

"I'm surprised, Spock. I never thought a Vulcan would resort to deceit."

"A desperate measure, Captain. I can take only so much of the Doctor's lecturing." He looked at Jim, "I am sorry that you had to witness this, however. Deceit is not in a Vulcan's nature; I merely -"

Jim raised a hand. "No need to apologize, Mr. Spock. I understand. Doctor McCoy took it too far this time. He wanted you to experience feelings that you cannot have."

Spock shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"That is a misconception, Captain. I _am_ capable of feeling love. What the Doctor and others fail to comprehend is that for a Vulcan, feelings are sacred. We refuse to flaunt them, or to waste them on temporary flings." He took a step in Jim's direction. "To us, love is equal to surrender," he said softly. "Utter capitulation. We give everything, and we take no less."

Jim held Spock's dark intense gaze but didn't say anything.

"It is a daunting prospect for some," Spock conceded. He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze back on the road ahead. "Perhaps we should finish our reconnaissance of the area, Captain."

Jim watched as Spock picked the PADD he'd dropped while putting on his act for McCoy.

"Well," Jim said, "Deceit may not be in your nature, Spock, but you did a good job. Bones practically fled."

"An understandable reaction," Spock said. "Not only was he being accosted by a male, he was being accosted by a _Vulcan_ male."

He started down the road.

Jim let him take a few steps, then, on an impulse, he called out, "Uh, Spock?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Just for the record… _I_ wouldn't have fled."

Spock half-turned.

"You would not?"

"No."

And he hoped that Spock would know, just by looking at him, that he meant what he'd just said.

Maybe he did. Spock smiled –not an open smile; certainly not one that anybody else would perceive as such. But after months of watching Spock, Jim had become familiar with the subtleties of his character. Spock _was_ smiling. Looking closer, Jim might even venture to say Spock looked happy –or as happy as a Vulcan might allow himself to look.

As if on cue, Spock said, "I am glad, Jim."

Jim smiled back. He took a step forward, ready to be grabbed and pushed against a tree.

Spock had other plans.

"Shall we proceed with our reconnaissance, Captain?"

Jim's eyebrows rose.

"Can't you stop thinking of the job for a minute, Spock?"

"Not while we are on duty, Captain."

"You're no fun," Jim said. But he was smiling as he followed Spock. And he was happy.

* * *

The End


	7. Bed Talk

Bed Talk

The guys are tired. Don't blame them if their conversations are silly, ok?

* * *

"Tiberius," Spock muttered. "Tiberius."

Jim Kirk glanced at Spock. The Vulcan had a faraway look in his eyes, the same look he got whenever he was mentally solving an intricate problem. Or whenever he couldn't quite recognize the taste of something he'd just eaten.

Or maybe he was simply sleepy?

"Tiberius," he said again.

Jim smiled.

"Repeating isn't going to make it sound any better," he said. The name had started to sound alien even to his ears. He was just too tired to think. He was tired -period. He and Spock had spent the afternoon together, a luxury they rarely had a chance to indulge in, and they hadn't wasted a single moment of it. They'd holed up in Spock's quarters –in Spock's bedroom, to be more precise- and now they were lying on their backs, naked, sweaty and exhausted.

He wasn't complaining, though; _oh, no, not at all,_ Jim thought, happy at the thought that they still had several hours to go.

Physical exertion had taken its toll on them, however: intelligent conversation had steadily deteriorated with the passing of time, and now even Spock seemed to be having difficulty processing information.

"Tiberius," he muttered one last time. He frowned -which only made him look even cuter, (at least in Jim's eyes), and concluded, "It is an old man's name."

"It's an _emperor_'s name," Jim countered.

"An _old_ emperor's," Spock replied. "Why give such a name to a baby?"

"They named me after my grandfather," Jim explained. "I guess my ancestors were ancient history fanatics." He was silent for a moment, then glanced at Spock. "What about you? Do you have a middle name?"

"Vulcans do not have middle names, Jim. We do not inherit our ancestors' names, either."

"But you do have a family name, right?"

"Correct. My lineal name is -" he paused.

"Yes?"

Spock shook his head. "It does not matter. Humans have difficulty pronouncing it, anyway."

"You always say that when it comes to Vulcan words." Jim turned on his side. "Come on, tell me."

Spock shook his head. He wasn't going to say it; no, no way. There was nothing Jim could say or do that would convince him to say it -

Actually, there was actually _a lot_ that Jim could say or do; and by the looks on his face, it was obvious he was willing to try.

Spock sighed. He knew when he was defeated.

Resigned, he said _it_.

Jim paused for a couple of seconds.

"All right," he said slowly. Then: "Please don't take this wrong way, but it almost sounded like you said, _#&%*_!"

Spock nodded.

"I know," he said ruefully. "The words have an unfortunate ressemblance. Sarek had a difficult time before he finally decided not to use the name in humans' presence, anymore." He was silent for a moment. "It is a fairly common name in Vulcan."

"Is it?"

"Yes. It is the equivalent of human names like Smith or Pérez."

"Really?" Jim smiled, "So your name would be like Spock Pérez?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I suppose."

They were silent after that, and Spock actually closed his eyes. Not Jim. He kept glancing at Spock until finally, he reached for the Vulcan's hand. He didn't take it; he merely touched it with the tips of his fingers. Spock blinked his eyes open.

"How about this," Jim said. "If we ever go to a planet where full names are required, just tell them you're Spock P. Kirk."

Spock looked at him with interest.

"Would you let me use your name?"

"Yes."

Spock paused for a couple of seconds.

"Thank you, Jim." He said. "I shall be honored."

"And in return -" Jim let the word trail off.

"Yes?"

"In return, you'll let me say I'm James T. _#&%*._"

----------

THE END


	8. First Kiss

First Kiss

* * *

_'Amazing.'_

That was the one thought going on in Jim Kirk's mind as Mr. Spock, the man he'd been lusting after for so long, kissed him.

Curious to see what Spock looked like, Jim opened one eye: Spock's eyes were closed, and his brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. In short, he looked just like he did whenever he was testing a theory, except that his eyes were closed and his mouth was shut.

And that was precisely what Jim still found hard to believe.

Mr. Spock: Science Officer and Second in command of the Starship Enterprise, (and the hottest man he'd ever met) kissed like a ten-year-old.

It wasn't a random comparison; Jim himself had kissed like this when he was a ten-year-old-boy: with eyes and mouth firmly shut. Sure, Spock's lips were probably less stiff than Jim's had been, and his hands weren't hanging by his sides, (they were on Jim's belt), but Spock wasn't ten years old, for God's sake. Shouldn't his tongue be somewhere, trying to make an appearance?

Not that Jim was complaining; just the fact that Mr. Spock wanted to kiss him was thrilling enough. Aware that Vulcans might have different views on courting, Jim had vowed to take things slow. Spock had invited Jim into his private quarters, and he had initiated the kiss too, and that was more than Jim had expected after just a week of tentative talks.

Besides, the kiss gave Jim a chance to explore his First Officer's body. Unobtrusively, of course. It wouldn't do to grab Spock's clothes and tear them off his body at the first chance. Clearly, a little finesse was required here. A hand here, a hand there… Fingers casually brushing Spock's butt –

All in all, a nice way to spend their free time together.

At some point Spock pulled back to look at Jim. He was smiling faintly, contentedly.

Jim smiled back.

"This is good, huh?"

"Indeed."

"You can touch me too, you know."

"Thank you, Jim."

But Spock's hands remained on Jim's belt. And he was definitely not making any attempt to unbuckle it.

Jim took a deep breath. Ok, maybe he'd lied when he said he wanted to take things slow.

It was time to take the next step.

"I think we should get more comfortable, Spock."

"Would you like to take a seat, Jim?"

"Uh, actually, I was thinking we could be in a more private place, Spock. Your bedroom, for instance."

"Oh." Spock glanced into the shadowy recesses of his sleeping area. "I am afraid I left a sweat shirt on the bed -"

"It's all right, Spock. A little mess won't matter."

"All right, Jim."

Jim's eyes lit up. He couldn't believe he'd heard correctly.

"REALLY?" He blurted out, then, "I mean, ahem, really?"

"Yes." Spock was about to add something, then blinked. "Unfortunately, my shift is about to begin."

"What? Oh, man," Jim groaned. He watched as Spock straightened his shirt. "Tell me again why we're working separate shifts?"

"The computer issued the monthly schedule," Spock said matter-of-factly.

"It was a rhetorical question, Spock," Jim muttered.

"By working separately, we both have the chance to work with other officers, Captain."

"And that's supposed to be a good idea?"

"The computer -"

Jim raised his hand.

"I know, I know. The computer knows best." He leant on the wall. "I think the computer hates me."

* * *


	9. Nice Try, Jim

Nice Try, Jim

(A sequel to 'First Kiss)

* * *

Jim took off his shirt and after a brief consideration dropped it in the waste bin. There was nothing to salvage; his pants too were ripped to shreds. Even his boots were wasted.

To say their mission to Gargolia had ended in near-disaster would be to grossly understate matters.

'At least we got to work together,' Jim thought, glancing at the other man in the locker room, First Officer Spock. The Vulcan was down to his underwear too, but unlike Jim, he was wearing more than underpants; he had his Vulcan underwear on; the black, skintight kind that covered most of his body.

"You're kidding me," Jim mumbled.

Spock eyed him curiously.

"Are you all right, Captain?"

"I'm fine, Spock; my uniform got the worst part of it. What about you? You're the one who pushed the Gargolian back into his cave, after all."

"I am all right," Spock said, "Although -" he tentatively rotated his neck, then stopped.

"What is it?"

"A slight pain -"

"You strained your neck," Jim said knowingly. "Tell Doctor McCoy; he'll give you something."

"I do not doubt that."

Something in Spock's tone caught Jim's attention. Sarcasm… resignation…

Jim smiled. Doctor McCoy was always calling Spock a 'pain in the neck', so it was easy to imagine his reaction if he found out Spock _had_ a pain in the neck.

"So, he'll make a few jokes," Jim shrugged, "He still got to give you some medication."

"It won't be necessary, Captain. Meditation and rest is all I need."

Jim considered the situation for a moment, then came up with a solution. "I could work that kink out for you."

Spock looked up uncertainly. He didn't say anything but it was obvious he was wondering what the hell 'work-that-kink' meant.

Jim smiled.

"It's a _massage_, Spock," he said. "I can give you one if you want."

Spock hesitated.

"Don't worry," Jim said good-naturedly, "I'm really good at it." But that was not the problem, and he knew it. "Forget rank, Spock," he said. "You're in pain, and I can help you. Go on," he added, motioning Spock to the nearest bench. "Sit."

This last word carried enough authority for Spock. He sat. Almost immediately he half-turned then, mindful of his neck, looked ahead again.

"Should I remove my undershirt?" he asked.

_'Oh, yeah,'_ Jim thought salaciously. Aloud, he said, "Nah. You'd only strain your neck further."

He sat behind Spock, his legs on either side of the Vulcan, though not close enough to touch. He rubbed his hands together, the sound catching Spock's attention.

"What are you doing?" he asked, half-turning again.

"I'm warming up my hands, Spock. Just relax, will you?" But the Vulcan was tense, and he gasped at the first contact of Jim's hands on his back. He held back almost immediately, but it was obvious he was in pain.

"Sorry," Jim said, but he didn't stop his ministrations; he knew Spock could take it. "It'll get better," he offered. He set out to work in earnest; he carefully kneaded the stiff muscles into submission, and was gratified when Spock began to relax. "Feels good, huh?" Spock didn't even speak; he only nodded his agreement.

Jim paused with his hands resting on Spock's shoulders. Normally, he would have made his move right then. When Jim Kirk offered a massage, it was understood by both parties that sex would be the end result.

Not this time. He had Spock in his hands, so to speak, yet there was nothing erotic about his touch.

He was doing this out of friendship.

No, he couldn't believe it either. '

This is weird,' he thought. Maybe he just didn't want Spock as much as he'd thought. Spock certainly didn't want him that much either. He was content with a few chaste kisses –and even those were scarce.

Maybe friendship was all that there was between them.

Jim half-rose, his hands still on Spock's back.

"That's it, Spock," he said, but Spock didn't move. It was as if Jim's hands were the only thing holding him up, and so Jim sat down again and, after a brief hesitation, wrapped an arm around him.

There was no resistance from Spock. His back touched Jim's chest and it stayed there.

"You're warm," Jim said mechanically. He didn't know what else to say. He rested his chin on Spock's shoulder. He glanced sideways at Spock and after a moment, Spock turned slightly and met his gaze. They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other's eyes until Jim, forgetting what he thought about friendship, leant closer and kissed Spock.

A chaste kiss –he didn't want to shock Spock, after all. Not yet, anyway. He figured once Spock was comfortable with this kiss, he would be more receptive to anything else Jim might try.

Spock shivered.

'Phase two,' Jim thought smugly. His lips parted; his tongue unfurled, and then -

Spock leant back. "Captain -"

"Spock, I'm holding you in my arms -you could at least call me Jim."

"Jim. I believe there is a problem with the room's temperature."

"Oh, yeah," Jim said complacently, "Things are getting hotter in here."

"Actually, they are getting colder, Jim."

"Uh?"

"Much colder, in fact."

It was the urgency in Spock's words that made him pause.

"I think you're right," Jim said. Vulcans was more sensitive to cold than humans, but even Jim could feel the temperature rapidly falling.

He and Spock looked at each other for a couple of seconds, then bolted for the door. The last thing they saw just before the doors closed behind them was the ice starting to form on the walls.

Jim punched the intercom. "Scotty! There's a malfunction in the officers' locker!"

Scotty didn't reply for a few seconds, then, _"I canna find any sign of malfunction, Captain. The computerr -" _

"Then check the computer for malfunctions!" Jim retorted. "The temperature here dropped in a matter of seconds!" 'And I'm half-naked in the hallway,' he thought angrily.

Meanwhile, Spock had opened a wall panel.

"What are you doing?"

"I am checking the manual controls, Jim. We cannot dismiss the possibility of human interference."

_"Captain?" _Scotty called out.

"Yes?"

_"I believe I found the malfunction, sir. A wee circuit flared up in there. Hardly noticeable -"_ Meaning, it wasn't the computer's fault. Jim's eyes narrowed. Scotty would always side with the computer, no matter what.

Spock intervened.

"Can we repair it from here, Mr. Scott?"

_"Negative, Mr. Spock; it's an internal circuit. Not to worry," _he added cheerfully_, "The computerr will do the repairs itself!"_

Spock nodded, but the words failed to reassure Jim.

* * *


	10. Love and other words

Love and other words...

Jim thought he was the expert at dodging embarrassing questions. Spock's better.

_

* * *

_

_Captain's log, supplement._

_...We are visiting Terra 6, home of the oldest surviving human colony in this part of the galaxy. Every ten years, Terra 6 pays tribute to their ancestors by holding a Fair that represents life on Earth on a determinate century. This year, visitors are witnessing what life was like on Earth in the 21st Century..._

_-----_

Jim took a bite of his Submarine sandwich and munched on appreciatively. The different meats made for a great combination of flavors, and the bread… Well, there was a lot to be said for bread that was 'fresh from the oven' as the advertisement said. People in the 21st century really pampered themselves. This coffee shop alone offered a hundred-and-fifty different beverages, (a hundred-and-twenty from coffee alone), not to mention the dozen variations of foot-long sandwiches.

No wonder the population had had an alarming weight problem.

_'But that was then,'_ Jim thought, taking a sip of iced coffee. He casually glanced at Spock, sitting on the opposite side. The Vulcan hadn't touched his food yet. He was still studying the wedge of vegetable pie they'd brought him; a huge slab lying on a nest of lettuce and toppled by a spring of something green and leafy.

Bewildered by the size of it, Spock had made a feeble protest to the waitress when she brought it, 'Excuse me, madam,' he'd said, "I ordered a portion for one.' And the lady had laughed out loud. 'That's a single serving, sir. Food portions were huge back then." And she'd patted Spock's shoulder before turning her attention to the next table

Spock had looked back at the pie… and was still looking.

"It's ok if you can't eat all of it," Jim said, "They'll just give you a doggie bag."

"A doggie bag?" Spock frowned. "You don't mean that literally, do you?"

Jim chuckled.

"No, I don't. Gee, Spock, they weren't barbarians, you know. What I mean is, they can pack your leftovers in a bag –a paper bag. They used to call it a 'doggie bag' because -"

Spock had visibly relaxed by the end of Jim's explanation. Encouraged, he picked his fork at last, only instead of digging into the pie he picked the sprig lying on top. He raised it to eye level, examined it from several angles then bit a piece of it. He chewed tentatively, then paused.

"Interesting flavor," he said diplomatically, but the tone betrayed the words.

Jim smiled faintly.

"You're probably not supposed to eat that, Spock."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it's the garnish."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Is it not edible?"

"Well, yeah," Jim shrugged. "It is. But it's only meant to decorate the food. You look at it, you set it aside, and then you forget about it."

Spock frowned.

"Do you mean it is going to be discarded?"

"Yeah," Jim said, enjoying the fact that he knew something that Spock did not. "That's how they did things back then," he added, sounding like an 21st century food style expert.

Spock eyed the sprig uncertainly

"Perhaps they will use it to garnish someone else's plate," he said, sounding hopeful.

"That would be unsanitary," Jim said patiently. He knew what this was all about; Spock worried about waste of any kind - a possible side-effect of losing one's planet, perhaps. "This is how they did it 250 years ago, Spock," Jim said gently. He lowered his voice, knowing he was about to shock the Vulcan. "They still used Styrofoam cups back then, you know."

Spock nodded.

"I remember now," he said gravely. He looked back at the sprig. "I could take this back to the Enterprise," he said thoughtfully. "It will be an interesting addition to our herb garden."

Jim smiled. This was a side of Spock few people got to see. The ass-kicking First Officer could be tender and nurturing too.

_'I love you,'_ Jim thought.

He'd never said those words to Spock. Or had he? He babbled enough things during sex, so maybe he had. He couldn't remember.

He studied Spock for a moment._ 'I could tell him right now,' _he thought. _'Freak him out a little -why not?'_

He opened his mouth -

"Do you love me?"

He froze. Where the hell did that come from? He, who'd dodged that question dozens of times in the past, (and when he wasn't dodging it, he was busy trying to to distract his dates away from the subject), had just popped it himself!

What the hell was the matter with him?

He looked at Spock. The Vulcan had put his fork down and now was staring ahead just like he did whenever he had to solve some difficult problem.

"Love?" he asked, frowning as if he'd never heard that word before.

_'Not bad',_ Jim thought, genuinely surprised. Answering a question with another was a great way of dodging the subject. On the other hand... Well... Deep down he was kind of disappointed that Spock had dodged the subject.

And all of a sudden, he knew what his girlfriends had felt when he'd dodged the question.

Meanwhile, Spock was still frowning.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Forget it," he said, and he turned his attention back to his sandwich, only to find it gone.

He was eating too fast, he realized; he wolfed down food like there was no tomorrow, even when he was on leave. Spock, on the other hand, was only halfway through his vegetable pie. Jim could hardly imagine vegetables tasting any better in a pie, but Spock seemed to be enjoying them.

With no more food on his plate, Jim opted for conversation.

"So. What do you think of 21st century Earth, Spock?"

The Vulcan raised his gaze. "I find human's optimism on the face of impending disaster quite fascinating, Jim."

Jim smiled at Spock's diplomatic reply.

"They were in denial, Spock."

Spock nodded wearily, "Every culture is, at one point or another."

How like Spock not to pass judgment. Dr. McCoy hadn't been as discreet. "Oh, great," he'd said when told they were coming to the Fair. "Global Warming, Aids II, and Reality TV; what's not to like?" And yet, the doctor was enjoying himself. The last time Jim saw him, McCoy was riding the Chicago Fury Roller coaster, a small version of the original ride built in the late 2020s, but just as nerve-wracking. Or so the ads said; Jim had his doubts. How could a mere rollercoaster offer any thrills to a seasoned space-traveler? There was no arguing with the results, though; McCoy and the others were having the time of their lives, which in turn had made it easier for Jim to ditch them. He'd decided he and Spock were going to take the tour in a reverse order: First the exhibitions, then the nerve-racking stuff.

So far Jim had had a blast at the aircraft and weapon exhibition, while Spock had browsed books to his heart's content. 'Real books, Jim,' Spock had said reverently as he examined them up close. They reminded him of his mother, who had kept quite a collection. They couldn't afford to buy any of the books on sale at the Fair but they'd pooled enough Credits to acquire a book catalog, now resting between them on the table. It was yellowish and torn at the edges, but the illustations on the cover were relatively intact.

"They had an appreciation for beauty," Jim said, glancing at the catalog.

"Indeed," Spock said, touching the catalog. He'd been doing that -touching the catalog as if he were making sure it was really there. He was obviously in awe of it.

It made Jim smile.

Spock noticed.

"You're smiling."

"I like it when you're happy."

"Happy?" Spock repeated, and he had that blank look in his eyes again.

"Forget it," Jim muttered and he automatically reached for his sandwich, but it was still gone. Mournfully, he picked a few crumbs. Instant gratification; that was his sin. He rushed, rushed. He rushed even during sex. Especially during sex.

The sudden silence caught Spock's attention.

"Something wrong?"

"I've been eating too fast," Jim said morosely.

"Yes," Spock said, taking another bite of pie.

Jim eyed him a bit enviousy. Spock never rushed. Well, not unless he really had to. He just this own sweet time to do things, even during sex. Especially during sex.

"Maybe I should be more like you," Jim said thoughtfully. "You know, eat slow -"

"Maybe I should eat faster," Spock said reasonably.

"Nah," Jim said, "It's OK." He studied Spock for a moment. 'You do love me,' he thought. 'Why can't you just admit it?' And why he needed to hear the words out loud, he still did not know. But if his old girlfriends could look at him now they'd laugh... And laugh…

"Look," Jim said, nodding at the window. Spock looked over his shoulder. A couple of Vulcan cadets on leave were walking by, eyebrows raised -not in wonder or admiration; more like in shock. 21st Century Earth must have looked really primitive to them.

_'Hell,'_ Jim thought,_ 'It looks primitive to me.'_

Spock had refrained from making any harsh comments, but that was the diplomat's son talking, after all. What would he say if he were out there, with his fellow Vulcans?

"I guess you'd rather be talking to those guys," Jim said.

"Those guys?"

"Why are you answering my questions with another question?"

"Am I?"

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're bullshitting me, aren't you?"

"Bullshitting?" Spock asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him. Yes, he was bullshitting Jim, and he was happy with the results.

"All right, Spock. You're mocking me. Why?"

"Because you let me," Spock said, surprised at the question.

Jim scoffed. Yeah, he let him. Simply put, Jim Kirk was whipped.

But so was Spock.

And the sudden certainty comforted him, somehow. They loved each other, whether they said it or not. And what's in a word, anyway? 'Love' alone could not convey what they felt for each other. There was _devotion_, for instance; _desire, camaraderie_ -

Spock cut into Jim's thoughts.

"Would you like to try some of this?" he asked, and he pushed his plate in Jim's direction.

Jim looked at the yucky vegetables pressed into soggy crust and then he looked at Spock. The Vulcan was smiling good-naturedly.

_'Oh, crap,'_ Jim thought. How could he say no to that face?

Resigned, he reached for the fork... But Spock handed him a menu instead.

"Shall you order another sandwich, Jim?"

"Ok," he said, mentally adding more words to the list. _'- camaraderie, reciprocity... and total understanding.'__

* * *

_

The End


	11. Jim tries again

Jim tries again

* * *

Jim had little time to think of the malfunction incident in the days that followed; with problems ranging from a dilithium shortage scare to an attack from a Romulan Pirate, all personal matters got relegated to the back of his mind.

Once those problems were dealt with, however, Jim's thoughts gradually went back to Spock. Things were going too slow and tentative between them, and Jim had an idea why: he'd jumped into it without any planning.

Jim Kirk wasn't as spontaneous as people might think; at least, not when it came to sex. Human girls (and boys) were relatively easy to conquer (Uhura excepted) but humanoid girls (and boys) required a lot more effort. When Jim had someone in his sights, he did a thorough research; he learned phrases in their native languages, he learned their favorite songs, and finally, he engaged in courtship rituals that in retrospect seemed too ludicrous to be true…

But it worked every time.

With this thought in mind, Jim went to the Enterprise library and, determined to do his best for Spock, he spent a couple of very educational hours there.

.............

Later that day, Jim did a surprise appearance on the bridge.

He expected to find Spock sitting on the Captain's chair, but the Vulcan preferred to stay in the Science area -which only worked in Jim's favor, since he needed a little privacy for his next move.

With the rest of the crew minding their own stations (doubly so, since the Captain was there), Jim crept up to Spock and, without much preamble, reached out and tweaked Spock's left ear.

The article he read said this was how a Vulcan declared his intentions to a prospective mate –a move that guaranteed a passionate response. Jim didn't really expect Spock to melt in his arms right then and there, (a smile or a discreet nod would do -anything that might show that Spock finally understood what Jim was after); what he definitely did not expect was Spock bolting from his chair like it was on fire, or the murderous look he gave him.

Murderous intent turned to incredulity when he saw Jim standing there.

"Captain?" he asked.

"Hey, Spock," Jim said, and he playfully reached out for his ear again, but Spock quickly stepped back. The murderous look was back in his eyes and when he spoke, it was with jaws so tightly clenched it was a miracle Jim could understand what he said.

"Captain. I will appreciate it if you do not do that ever again."

Stunned by Spock's reaction, Jim surreptitiously looked at his hand in case there was something gross in it, but it was actually pretty clean.

He withdrew it, anyway.

"Ok," he said cautiously.

Spock wasn't mollified. Mindful of the others, he hissed, "Captain, what possessed you to do that?"

"What do you mean? It's supposed to be a Vulcan custom."

"A _Vulcan_ custom?"

"I read it in the library," Jim said. "According to the article, Vulcans tweak each other's ears to show their affection, and to -"

"That cannot be true."

Jim's smile froze on his lips. "Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Spock?"

"I am saying that such information cannot possibly exist in the library."

"Really. Why is that?"

"Because to a Vulcan, having an ear tweaked is the worst insult possible!" He said it as if it should be obvious to all. "How could you even think _I_ would want you to tweak my ear, in the first place?"

"Hey, I've seen weirder things done," Jim retorted. "Once, I had to dip my privates in a vat of honey just to -" _just to get an Andorian girl_, he was going to say, but wisely refrained from finishing. Unfortunately, Spock was so knowledgeable, he probably knew anyway. "Ok, look," Jim said, changing tactics. "I'm sorry I, uh, did that to you. But I was just following instructions. Come on, see for yourself," and he motioned Spock to enter the Enterprise library from his console.

Spock followed Jim's instructions and entered the site Jim had been studying all morning.

"There it is," Jim said, pointing at the screen.

Spock read. And read.

He was shaking his head by the time he'd finished the article.

"Well?" Jim said.

"I apologize, Captain; the information is there. Most of it is misleading, to say the least."

Jim glanced at the text over Mr. Spock's shoulder. On hindsight, he should have probably known the information was wrong, despite the scholarly tone of the article.

"I am understating the facts," Spock added. "This article is downright malicious and insulting."

"But how did it get there?" Jim asked, "Doesn't the computer automatically delete any information that contains mistakes?"

"It does when the information is entered into the Enterprise's official data base, Captain. This, on the other hand, is a public site. One of dubious reputation, by the way," he added, in a slightly patronizing tone. "If you had done your research in the Enterprise's library, then perhaps -"

"I tried," Jim retorted, "But the library's got zero information on Vulcan courtship. Go ahead, _you_ try to find something."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Why would _I_ want information on how to court a Vulcan?" He was perfectly serious but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "More importantly, why would you?"

Jim opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. He'd noticed by now the surreptitious glances they were getting from the rest of the crew. They were obviously intrigued by all the whispering.

"We'd better finish this conversation elsewhere, Spock."

Spock had noticed too.

"Agreed, Captain."

Jim straightened up.

"We need to discuss this matter thoroughly, Mr. Spock," he said formally, raising his voice for everybody's benefit. "I'll see you in my quarters in a half-hour."

"I shall ask Mr. Scott to take over for me," Spock said dutifully. Studiously avoiding Jim's gaze, he added, "I am most curious to hear your personal account on the matter, Captain."

----


	12. Sweet Talker

Sweet-talker

Note: This is a sequel to "Cooking up a Storm" and "Pon Farr Time!"

* * *

Smooth skin, pale, tautly spread over hard, sculpted muscles…

Jim looked down at it, hands shaking at the prospect of caressing such perfection yet again. He didn't even know where to begin this time. The shoulder? The neck? He'd been there often enough if the reddish marks on the skin were any indication. The jaw, maybe. The lips…

But his attention ended up straying to a little nub farther down; a tempting morsel of dark flesh and tiny little hairs that looked just like a – a -What was the name, now?

Jim licked it a couple of times in case the taste would help him remember, but it didn't work out quite that way. It tasted good, however, and so he gave it a few more licks.

The flesh hardened under his ministrations, and it turned a darker color too. It didn't redden -not with green blood flowing underneath. Had it turned red, it would have definitely look like a –

"Raspberry!" Jim blurted out.

Spock, lying flat on his back, opened his eyes and focused them on Jim.

"Raspberry, Jim?" he said.

"Your nipple," Jim said. "It looks like a raspberry." It sounded stupid once he'd said it aloud, so he shrugged. "Kind of."

Spock didn't seem to think if was stupid. He reached for Jim's hands and held them.

"Do I please you?"

Jim chuckled.

"Like you don't you know," he said.

But Spock wasn't smiling. He was seriously waiting for a response.

Jim frowned. "Don't you know?"

"I have to ask you," Spock said.

"Oh," Jim said. He kept forgetting all the rituals that Vulcans had to follow. "Well… If you must know…" He paused.

When the pause lasted too long for comfort, Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Jim?"

Jim smiled.

"Yeah, you please me. What about me? Do I please you?"

Spock eyed him thoughtfully.

"Well, Jim, so far you've compared ten of my body parts to various edible objects, so -"

"But only to food that I love," Jim pointed out gallantly.

"- so, all I can say is, yes, you please me, but it is going to take me a while to get used to your peculiar brand of sweet-talk."


	13. A meeting under the Stars

A meeting under the stars

* * *

It was a quiet night, and Jim Kirk had decided to spend a little time in the observation deck. He went there whenever he had a pressing problem. Watching the stars helped him put things into perspective, and that was exactly what he needed tonight.

He raised his gaze and took in the immensity of the sky. It was a magnificent sight yet, impressive as it was, it failed to take Jim's mind off other visual marvels –specifically, his First Officer's physical marvels.

Those eyes… those hands… And oh, that _mouth_. It was becoming an obsession.

"Damn," Jim muttered. "Men shouldn't have lips like those._"_

_...With glorious peaks_

_The gateway to paradise -"_

"Captain?"

Jim whirled around and almost choked when he realized Spock was standing on the deck too.

"Shit, Spock! Don't you knock?"

"I often do, Captain. In this case, however, it is you who did not."

"Oh. You were already here when I -"

"When you entered the deck," Spock finished. "Yes."

Jim cleared his throat.

"And you heard what I -"

"What you said, yes. I did." Spock eyed him curiously. "If I am not mistaken, you were quoting the poem Tara Imani dedicated to a Vulcan she loved from afar."

Jim didn't reply.

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"Why?" Jim said morosely. "You don't think I'm cultured enough to appreciate poetry?"

"I do not think anything of the sort, Captain," Spock calmly. "I think it is fascinating because I was thinking of a poem, myself."

And he looked at Jim in the eye and said,

_"Blue eyes…_

_Like a deep blue sea…_

_On a blue, blue day."_

* * *

I don't know anything about poetry, so I used an Elton John song, 'Blue Eyes.'


	14. Choices

Choices

This takes place during Spock's meeting with Spock Prime. The first lines are like those in 'Live Lean and Prosper', but this one's a bit more dramatic. Technically, this is not a love scene, but the story's just too small to stand on its own.

* * *

Spock looked up in surprise. His older self was practically telling him it was all right for him to have feelings for Jim Kirk.

"Those feelings are not logical," Spock protested.

Old Spock shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Is it me you are trying to convince, Spock? Or is it you?"

Young Spock looked away in confusion. He'd hoped his elder self would help him sort out the conflicts raging in his mind. Instead, he was making it more difficult to find a resolution.

"There is nothing shameful about these feelings of yours," the elder Vulcan said gently. "To fight them would be illogical." He studied Spock for a moment. "Unless you do not consider Jim Kirk worthy of them."

"He is reckless," Spock muttered.

His elder self smiled benevolently. "Wasn't his recklessness the very thing that attracted you, in the first place?"

Young Spock looked down and took a moment to examine his own feelings on the matter. Yes, it was. Partly. There were other reasons -but he was not about to look closely into them right now. All he knew was that Jim Kirk affected him to his very core, and it was a most disquieting situation to be in.

"Spock," the older man said, "You could help temper that recklessness; turn it into an asset."

"Or I could be seduced by it," Spock said softly. "Let it influence my own actions."

The elder Spock pondered this comment, and he immediately understood what his younger self meant.

"My actions regarding Romulus…" he said slowly, as if he were reading the thoughts off Spock's mind. "You believe I made a reckless decision."

"The possibility has occurred to me," Young Spock said reluctantly.

"My decision seemed logical at the time," the elder Spock said quietly. He watched the young Vulcan and, once again, perceived his true thoughts. "Spock. Reckless or not, it was _my_ decision. I'll have the rest of my life to ponder the wisdom of it. But it is my burden; not yours -or Jim Kirk's. Do not punish him for it." He reached out and after a moment's hesitation, placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "He will need you. You will need each other." But he'd already said that. There were other things he could say but refrained.

Regretfully, he let his hand drop. "I do not wish to impose my will on you," he said in a lighter tone. "I have grown weary of responsibilities," he added, smiling ruefully.

Young Spock didn't raise his gaze. He had a decision to make, and he would have to make it on his own.

And maybe one day he would look back and ponder over the wisdom of it; maybe he would wonder about the road not taken.

But for now...

"I choose Vulcan," he said softly.

* * *

TBC

Next: A look at Spock's new life in Vulcan.


	15. Choices Pt two

Choices

Part two

* * *

_"... Our friends have proved to be most gracious in our time of need,"_ Ambassador Sarek said. _"They have given us hope. For that, we are, and always will be, grateful." _

Alone in his observation post, Spock watched his father's image on a large screen on the wall. Like thousands of others in New Vulcan, he'd put his duties on hold in order to listen to Sarek; unlike most of them, Spock already knew what the message was all about. Sarek had discussed it with him only that morning. Concerned about the Federation's growing involvement in matters that were traditionally handled by the Elders, the Vulcans Council had come to a very important decision.

Sarek looked suitably grave as he stated, _"It is time for us to stand on our own. For our culture to survive, we must reestablish our independency."_

Spock hadn't made any comment that morning, nor had his father really expected one. Both knew Spock's opinion hardly mattered, and it was only Sarek's kindness that had moved him to share the news. Sarek was merely acknowledging the fact that, as a former high-ranking Starfleet officer, Spock was bound to have an interest in any decision concerning the Federation.

Secretly, Spock approved the council's decision, though for reasons that had little to do with Vulcan culture. The Federation logo, present in everything from food rations to building materials was a constant –and painful- reminder of all that he'd left behind, and he was growing weary of it.

Leaving Starfleet had hurt him unexpectedly and time, far from bringing relief, had only deepened his wounds.

Sometimes, he opened those wounds himself.

Sometimes, when he was alone like tonight, he sought the company of those he'd voluntarily left behind. Using devious means, he stole into the Federation's memory banks, hungry for any bit of information regarding the crew of the Enterprise. He didn't yield to the temptation too often, and he certainly never stayed for long in those sites; all he needed was to make sure they were all right.

Spock glanced at a nearby console, the one he used to enter the Federation's sites. Now that the Council was about to restrict the Federation's presence on New Vulcan, those sites would probably become heavily monitored –maybe even censored. Anyone trying to access their information would have to come up with a valid reason to do so.

Spock dutifully turned his gaze back to Sarek's image, then again to the console. He held on for as long as he could, then finally he turned to the console and entered a password.

It took a moment for the Starfleet logo to lit up the screen.

"Welcome," a perky voice hailed, but Spock cut the greeting short by entering a code. This time a more mechanical (and more familiar) voice told him to "Proceed."

"Computer," Spock said, "Give me the current status of the Starship Enterprise."

A menu was promptly displayed on the screen: 'Starship Enterprise' and below:

Mission

Officers

Current Location

Spock hesitated, just like he did whenever he reached this point. There was a part of him that resisted; the part that considered his actions folly. Abruptly, he voiced his choice, "Officers," then ignored the beating of his heart as the data slowly started to unfold.

Captain: James T. Kirk

He pretended not to notice the surge of relief he felt when he saw the name, but was less successful when he saw the next.

First Officer: Amon Bikaru.

"Bikaru," Spock said aloud. The name came as a shock. Bikaru was strictly old-school; not the kind who could work alongside Jim Kirk. Surely, their actions would surely end up opposing each other's. So why did Jim Kirk choose him, of all possible candidates? And after holding out for so long?

Captain Kirk had set sail without a First Officer -something unheard of. In fact, not a month had passed before Starfleet started pressuring him into appointing one –and this, Spock knew because he'd successfully intercepted several messages sent by Starfleet.

The question was, did Jim Kirk choose this First Officer or did Starfleet Command simply assign him one? Whichever the case, their choice wasn't the wisest one.

Or was he letting his own feelings on the matter cloud his reasoning? It was a possibility, and Spock knew it. His older self had hinted at the great things he and 'his' Kirk had accomplished. Spock had rejected that possible future for the immediate rewards of working in New Vulcan. He didn't regret that decision -he had a job (several, actually) and he was reasonably content. But what if Jim Kirk needed _him_ at a crucial point? What if his absence from the Enterprise proved to be the catalyst between life and death? What then?

He would always wonder.

Spock looked back at the screen. There was a window on the upper corner of the Starfleet Menu. Pictures of the crew and the ship were at his disposal.

All he had to do was press that window…

… and open the wound in his heart?

No. Not tonight. There'd be another chance tomorrow, perhaps. And if he was strong, then he'd avoid that one temptation, and then he'd start to heal. Perhaps.

Suddenly, a melodious voice broke into his thoughts.

"Spock?"

* * *

TBC

Next: T'Pring's choice.


	16. Choices part three

Choices

Part three

Writing Spock's formal speech is hard enough. With T'Pring thrown in, it's hell. I tried my best, but… Ah, well.

* * *

"Spock?"

Spock turned. A young Vulcan female stood by the open door, her eyes respectfully cast down. A few steps behind, an older Vulcan lady stood, her eyes fixed upon Spock in full defiance of common courtesy. _She_ would never lower her gaze in the presence of a half-human. She was an elder, as her full-mourning clothes proclaimed.

The younger woman on the other hand wore a simple mourning tunic over gray coveralls. She was an Engineer working in construction.

She was Spock's fiancée, T'Pring.

Spock rose. He took a couple of steps to the door and bowed slightly. "Lady N'Mayia," he said, acknowledging the older woman. Then, in a noticeably gentler tone he spoke to the greeted the young Vulcan. "T'Pring," he said, "May your days be fruitful in these trying times."

T'Pring raised her gaze.

"I thank you, Spock," she replied, "Your kind wishes gladden my heart." She glanced at the screen on the all. Sarek's message was being broadcasted again, and she respectfully listened for a moment.

"Sarek's words have been extremely edifying," she said. She looked at at Spock. "Please convey him my family's wishes for the successful completion of his mission."

"I thank you, on his behalf," Spock said formally.

T'Pring smiled faintly, and for a moment she stood like that, seemingly content with looking at him, until the lady N'Mayia pointedly cleared her throat.

T'Pring winced.

"Forgive me," she said, suddenly contrite, "I have not stated the purpose of my visit." She turned and took a small bowl the older woman was holding in her hands. "I brought you a gift of food." She presented it to Spock, and for a moment, the two of them held the bowl at the same time.

"It is a seed-and-fruit cake," she said. "I prepared it myself," she added shyly. "From Lady Amanda's recipe."

"Then I shall enjoy it doubly," Spock said gallantly. He hesitated, then, on an impulse, he added, "Shall you stay a moment?"

T'Pring's smile widened every so slightly, as if this were exactly what she'd been hoping for.

"Gladly," she said. She turned to the older woman, who seemed ready to follow her inside. "Thank you, N'Mayia" T'Pring said haughtily. "I shall not require your presence in this meeting."

The older woman was taken aback. "But T'Pring -" she sputtered. She looked at Spock and then back at T'Pring. "You… you cannot -"

"I said _thank you_, N'Mayia."

N'Mayia's protests died under the stern look T'Pring gave her. Reluctantly, she bowed her head. She did not approve of Spock, and were they in Vulcan, she would have made the fact very clear. But the devastation of Vulcan had left T'Pring as the head of the house of Kapek, with N'Mayia as a dependant –a fact she was very aware of, though it didn't keep her from showing her disapproval of Spock. In her eyes, T'Pring was powerful and wealthy enough to seek a more advantageous marriage than the one her parents had arranged for her, and it was to her dismay that T'Pring had resolved to stand by her fiancée.

It wasn't easy for her to admit defeat, but she managed it. Meekly, she bowed. "Very well, T'Pring," she said, and she stepped back.

The door closed, and only then did T'Pring turn back to Spock. There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Aunt N'Mayia does not approve of unmarried couples meeting unchaperoned." she said

"We must honor our elders, T'Pring," Spock said, but the reproof was softened by his teasing tone. As an affianced couple, they were supposed to follow certain courtship customs -including the one that forbade them to meet without the presence of an elder friend or family member- but as friends they sometimes found it difficult to stand on ceremony.

"Would you like to sit?" Spock asked, motioning her to the only comfortable seat in the room –a very old fur-covered seat.

She didn't seem to hear. She was glancing around, taking note of the room and its contents. Spock didn't take offence. As a top builder, she had a natural interest in every construction in New Vulcan.

Eventually, her eyes fell on him him. "I was apprised of your decision to stay in this post," she said. He nodded. "You are going to continue monitoring the planet's structure -"

"-and to develop its resources," Spock added. "The soil is far richer than we first suspected."

She didn't reply, but her silence spoke for itself. Despite numerous requests from Vulcan elders to help them rebuild the Science Academy and offers of diplomatic jobs from Sarek, Spock had chosen a job that kept him in this cramped space for days at a time.

T'Pring didn't exactly approve, and Spock knew it.

"It is a useful occupation, T'Pring," he said patiently.

"It is," she said. She was still glancing here and there, sometimes back at him and then away. She paused by a console and pointedly rubbed a worn-out spot in its surface. Spock's unit was evidently not a top priority for the Vulcan council just yet. "Your dedication is certainly to be commended," she added cordially. "Yet sometimes I wonder..."

"Yes?"

She looked at him. "I wonder if you chose it because it is the one occupation that will keep you from looking at the open sky."

Spock didn't reply. He held T'Pring's gaze until she abruptly looked down.

"I beg your forgiveness," she said, "I only question your motives because I wish you to be content."

"I am content." He could tell she was not convinced, so he added, "I _am,_ T'Pring."

She looked up and studied him for a moment; then, seemingly reassured, she took the bowl from his hands and uncovered it. They both looked inside. The cake was dark colored and cut in squares, and it was very fragrant.

"I used dried fruit and Antarian honey," she said as she selected a piece. "And -"

"And cinnamon," Spock said, as he selected another.

"Lots of cinnamon," T'Pring said, nodding. They smiled faintly at each other as they recalled the Lady Amanda saying those exact words whenever she baked that special cake for them. It was a long time ago, of course; back when they were children, and T'Pring sneaked into Amanda's home for a visit. Dismissed by her own family, (especially by her Aunt N'Mayia, whose nicest name for T'Pring was 'Runt') T'Pring had found a friend in the human lady.

"I shall always be grateful for the time I was able to spend with her," T'Pring said now.

"I, too," Spock said. "I believe you offered her a great deal of comfort, while I was away at the Academy."

She smiled at this. She looked at him for a moment and then she hesitantly raised a hand. She tentatively touched his cheek with her fingertips.

"Thy'la," she whispered. She looked at him expectantly.

Spock smiled, raised his hand and touched her fingers.

"Tippie," he said fondly. That was his childhood name for her.

She kept her gaze on him. There was something more he should be saying, but he didn't seem to realize, and after a moment she dropped her gaze in defeat.

_This_, he did notice.

"Is there something the matter?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"That is all I am to you, am I not?"

"I do not understand."

She raised her gaze. "Can't you call me Th'yla? Am I only your childhood friend?

Spock mused on this for a moment.

"You _are_ my childhood friend," he said slowly. "I loved you then. I love you now."

"But I am less than a bride to you."

Spock winced.

"Have I been lax in my attitude to you?" he asked, sincerely preoccupied. "I beg your forgiveness; I have been distracted lately -"

"You have not been lax," she said. She shook her head again. She seemed tired, all of a sudden. "These are trying times; that is all." She was silent for a moment. When she looked up, she was smiling brightly. Too brightly.

"I brought you another gift."

"You shame me, T'Pring," Spock said uncomfortably. "I have given you so little -"

She didn't let him finish.

"Do you remember how we used to play in the Lady Amanda's private quarters?"

Spock smiled back. His mother had a room filled with objects she'd brought from Earth: old clothes, mementos, and books, all kept out of sight from Sarek, but not from the children.

T'Pring took something from a pocket in her coveralls. A flat package, wrapped in an old cloth. She looked down at it with genuine reverence.

"Lady Amanda gave me this, the last time I visited with her," she said softly. "It is yours by right."

Spock reached for the gift but his eyes remained on T'Pring.

"Open it," she said gently.

Spock removed the cloth, uncovering a small book, old and tattered. Spock recognized it by the cover: A bullet-shaped spaceship crossing a badly depicted Solar System.

"Lucky Starr and the Moons of Jupiter," he said, surprised that he remembered the title so well.

T'Pring smiled. "You used to read me these stories, remember? We would hide in the garden, so Sarek wouldn't know. You liked Lucky Starr so much, you even invented your own stories."

"I was very young," Spock said apologetically; "Once I started my training I realized those books were factually wrong."

"They made you happy, nevertheless."

"Perhaps," Spock said. He opened the book, gently browsed through it. There were notes written in his own hand on the margins, and, surprisingly, drawings, too. He had a sudden memory of sitting in a corner, coloring his drawings with his mother's ancient wooden crayons. Wooden crayons! They'd splintered in his hands.

His mother hadn't been too happy about that.

"Turn to the last page," T'Pring said.

He did, only to find another of his drawings there, larger than the rest. It depicted a blond, blue-eyed Lucky Starr, sitting in a commanding chair and looking up in defiance –at least, that had been Spock's intention. The drawing wasn't really that good, but Spock remembered very well the emotions he'd meant to convey. A rebellious space traveler; bold, reckless…

Spock stared at it for a moment more, then he closed the book.

"Do you recognize him?" T'Pring asked. "I saw a picture just like this recently."

Spock didn't reply.

T'Pring walked past him to a nearby console; she entered a code, then another, and suddenly, a picture appeared.

A blond, blue-eyed man looking up in defiance.

Jim Kirk.

Spock serenely looked at it. He didn't have to open the book in order to see the resemblance between this picture and the one he'd drawn.

T'Pring looked at him.

"I cannot say I understand this," she said softly, "But it would be illogical to try to ignore it. That picture you drew; it speaks of the future -your future."

Spock shook his head. "I left all that behind," he said quietly. "I chose life in Vulcan."

"But is it the life you want?" she retorted. "I must ask you a question, Spock. Tell me; if our world had not been destroyed, would you be here, with me?"

There was a brief hesitation. "No."

"No." she said, as if she'd known all along what his response was going to be.

"But I never doubted our marriage would take place some day," Spock said. "There is nobody else I would rather marry, T'Pring."

"Can you not think of anybody else you would love more?" she replied. It sounded like a challenge.

Spock was genuinely surprised by the question.

"Love?"

"_Love_, Spock. Sometimes, duty isn't enough. I spent enough time with Lady Amanda to learn that. She had a duty, too, many years ago. She chose love. I do not think she ever regretted it."

"She wanted us to be together," he pointed out.

"She wanted us to be _happy_," she replied. "I do not believe she'd want us to hold on to our bond merely to honor her memory. And even though we have a duty to our planet and to our people, we also have a duty to each other. Our friendship is precious to me; I do not want to jeopardize it." She touched his face again. "Spock. I can forgive you for not loving me enough; I will not forgive you for taking me while you would rather have another."

Spock held her gaze, then nodded.

He touched her fingers.

"My Tippie," he said.

"Your friend," she said. "Always."

* * *

TBC


	17. What shall I compare thee to?

What shall I compare thee to?

Silliness abounds as Jim tries to seduce Spock.

* * *

Lady Amalie Osborne, the beautiful daughter of the Federation Ambassador to Delta 4, wandered about the new Deltan Museum, glancing at the pieces of art on display. Sometimes she leant over so she could have a better look of the sculptures, and every time she did that, James T. Kirk got an eyeful of her ample décolletage.

_Breasts._

It had been a while since Jim's interests ran in that direction, but now that they'd been aroused, he was starting to warm up to the idea.

It wasn't like he had any reason not to, he thought morosely, taking a gulp of his drink. He glanced back at Lady Amalie, only to find his view blocked by Dr. McCoy.

Bones was eyeing him sardonically.

"Careful, Jim. Your eyes are about to pop out."

"I thought you wanted to see the medical display."

"The drinks are better on this side," Bones said, pointedly raising his glass. He glanced around. "So, where's Spock?"

Jim muttered something.

"What?"

"He's somewhere," Jim said, taking another gulp of his drink.

"You mean you don't know?" Bones looked at him closely. "Funny; I thought you two would be back in our lodgings by now ."

"I don't know what you mean," Jim said morosely, even though he, too, had thought he and Spock would back in their lodgings long before the night was over.

He'd been planning it for days. Weeks, actually. He'd fantasized about, reveling on the challenge to get Spock; he'd dreamed of the moment when Spock would come to him, irresistibly drawn by his charms, and beg him –oh, yeah- beg him to take him and do whatever he wanted with him. He'd pictured Spock looking up to him, (ok, so technically it should be Jim looking up at Spock but it was Jim's fantasy, after all). Anyway, in Jim's fantasy, Spock always looked up to him. He reached for Jim, and then –

Well, several things happened then, depending on Jim's mood. Sometimes he pictured Spock dropping to his knees in passionate submission; sometimes he was the one taking action by dragging Spock to his bed. Sometimes he simply pulled Spock for a searing kiss…

"So, what happened?" McCoy asked, breaking into Jim's thoughts.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? What, you didn't make your move?"

Jim glared at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Bones rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I know you, Jim; you've been checking out Spock, you've been giving him 'the look'... I _know_ the signs."

"Oh, shut up," Jim muttered.

"Well, well," Bones said, "It looks like he turned you down."

Jim didn't reply; instead he raised his glass again, only to find that it empty. He stared into it as if he could will the drink to reappear.

"There he is," McCoy said.

Jim looked over his shoulder. Spock was standing in a corner, next to an Andorian Officer –what was his name? Trellamin.

The Intrepid's Science Officer.

"Birds of a feather," Jim muttered.

"They're probably talking about the latest scientific theories and discoveries," Bones said.

Jim snorted.

It was precisely Spock's scientific knowledge that got between them.

All of Jim's efforts had been for nothing.

First, he'd talked Spock into accompanying him to the nearest balcony, (which wasn't an easy feat, considering how enthusiastic Spock was about the displays in the room); then, after a few preliminary words (words that Jim did not want to remember –ever), he'd given Spock the full Kirk treatment, the one that had worked so well with others: the full-body contact, the hands possessively holding the other's face, a tongue gently yet firmly making its way into the other's mouth…

He gave Spock his all, and by the time he pulled back, breathless with desire and anticipation, he saw Spock staring at Jim's mouth in wonder.

Jim had taken that as an encouragement. He was about to pull Spock for another kiss, when the Vulcan spoke.

"Fascinating," he'd said in that dry, academic tone of his.

"What is it?" Jim asked huskily.

"Your tongue," Spock said. He tentatively swirled his tongue inside his mouth as if trying to retrieve some elusive taste from it, then said, "It felt as if a live Carcomong worm had entered my mouth."

A worm!

Jim was still pissed-off about that.

Luckily, Scotty had paged him then; it gave him a solid excuse to leave the balcony without losing face.

Jim looked back at Lady Amalie, wondering at his chances to get _her_ into bed. She looked up at the same time, held his gaze for a couple of seconds, then demurely turned away, thus giving him a full view of her shapely backside.

_Ah, yes_. There were possibilities there.

Best of all, Lady Amalie would never compare his tongue to a worm. She probably -hopefully- wanted the same things he did: a roll in the hay, a mindless fuck.

Whereas Spock…

Well, Jim didn't know what Spock wanted, but whatever it was, it was bound to be complicated. Vulcans were too cerebral; if Jim went back to the balcony, Spock would probably continue analyzing each and every one of Jim's moves.

Jim wanted something simpler. He wanted to get laid –that was all.

And judging by the looks some of the other Starfleet Officers were giving Lady Amalie, Jim was not the only one lusting. He'd better made his move…

"Well, well," McCoy said.

"What?" Jim asked.

McCoy was looking in Spock's direction again. Jim turned. To his surprise, Tellamin had moved closer to Spock. Far too close, in fact. He was even touching Spock, picking inexistent lint from the Vulcan's tunic.

And Spock didn't seem to mind. He was nodding politely at whatever Trellamin was saying… And openly glancing at Trellamin's mouth!

_What the hell?_

Jim froze. A couple of lieutenants were talking to Lady Amalie now, making her laugh, but he noticed this only vaguely. It was Spock he was keeping his eye on now.

"Uh, Bones?" he said, still looking at Spock and Trellamin. "I need you to do somethng for me."

"Do your dirty work, you mean?" McCoy said smiling indulgently. "Oh, all right -"

...

Jim approached Spock, now standing alone by the living sculptures of Balkania.

"So, Spock," he said. "Where's Mr. Trellamin?"

"He was called back to The Intrepid, Captain."

"Uh, huh," Jim said. He looked at the sculptures, then back at Spock. "I saw you flirting with him."

"Flirting?" Spock asked innocently.

Jim gave him a look.

"We were merely discussing the new egg fertilizing methods applied in Banturia, Captain."

"He had his hands all over you, Spock."

"Hardly all over me, Captain," Spock replied, and if Jim didn't know better, he'd think Spock was stifling a smile. "His hands never strayed below my chest area."

"And you let him."

"Yes."

Jim narrowed his eyes.

"I guess you two have a lot in common," he said. "You know; a vast knowledge of science, egg fertilization methods -" _Don't say it, don't say it._ "- worms."

He'd said it.

Spock tilted his head.

"Was it wrong for me to mention the Carcomong worm, Jim?"

"Oh, no, Spock," Jim said, the words dripping sarcasm, "It was the best thing you could have said."

"Was it?" Spock asked, missing the sarcasm. "I had the impression you were taken aback by my comment. I knew it was a fanciful thing to say, but you must know I did not mean it literally. I know your tongue is not a worm." He paused. "Metaphorically speaking, however, my comparison was correct."

"_Thank you_, Mr. Spock."

Spock looked curiously at Jim.

"Do you even know what a Carcomong worm is, Jim?"

"Sure, I do," Jim retorted. "Just because I'm not a Science Officer doesn't mean I don't know what a Carcomong worm is."

"Then you know what I was trying to say, do you not?"

"Sure." Jim paused for a couple of seconds, then frowned. "Why? What were you trying to say?"

Spock smiled very briefly.

"Jim, a Carcomong worm is the most beautiful creature ever found in that planet. It moves gracefully along the shores -so gracefully, in fact, that dancers all over the galaxy are trying to imitate its movements. It is a most stimulating sight, I must add."

Jim raised his eyebrows.

"Is it?"

"It is."

"Oh. So, what you were trying to say -" He paused for a couple of seconds, then motioned Spock in the balcony's direction. "Maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere, Spock."

"As you wish. We could also go back to our lodgings, Jim. I believe our privacy would be more assured in there."

"Good idea, Spock. Let's go."

Jim led the way to the door, pausing only briefly when he saw Dr. McCoy talking earnestly to Lady Amalie.

_'Well, well,'_ Jim thought. No wonder Bones had been so eager to help him get rid of Trellamin. Ah, well. If Bones wanted to get laid, then that was ok. A mindless roll in the hay wouldn't do him any harm.

Jim, on the other hand, wanted something more now. Something more permanent.

Even if it was bound to get much more complicated.

Specially if he talked.

* * *

THE END


	18. It's wrong, wrong, wrong!

It's wrong, wrong, wrong!

Couldn't think of a better title, sorry.

* * *

_'What is wrong with you?'_

Jim almost said the words out loud.

He didn't get it. He was in Delta 4, home of the most beautiful humanoid females in the universe; he'd come just in time for the Deltan Spring Festival, a festivity known for its highly sexual connotations; he'd brought along Spock, the one Enterprise officer he could trust not to try to steal any of his possible conquests away -and what did he do?

He ended up having sex with Spock.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

And the worst part now was that he couldn't just bolt out of the room the way he always did. He was in his own room for one thing -which meant he'd broken one of his most sacred rules; the one that said 'never bring a date to your own place unless she (or he) is due for work in a couple of hours', (which made him wonder yet again what was wrong with him); and besides, this was _Spock._ He had to handle this situation with care.

All he could do was lay quietly and wait. If he didn't move, then maybe Spock would simply roll off the bed and leave. Maybe Vulcans had their own rules about this sort of thing too.

Unfortunately, there were no signs that Spock might want to leave. But at least his breathing had returned to normal. Spock's harsh post-coital gasps had scared the hell out of Jim until he realized they were due to the amazing orgasm he'd given the First Officer, (which only added to Jim's high opinion of himself: 'Oh, yeah,' Jim thought, smiling at the memory. 'You _are _good').

He covertly glanced at Spock: The First Officer was lying on his back, his eyes half-open, one hand lying casually on Jim's thigh, the other tentatively touching the wet spots on his own belly. Jim almost reached out to touch Spock's belly too, but checked himself just in time. He tried to get a better look, though. He'd never seen Spock naked, not even at the gym, where he insisted on wearing his Vulcan black long johns. He could see a little of Spock's body but not much.

And as he looked, it suddenly occurred to him he hadn't tasted much of Spock either; his memory of kissing Spock was hazy at best.

It was almost enough to make him wish they could do this again -which made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with him. Jim Kirk did not go for seconds. Jim Kirk was always on the prowl, looking for the next experience, the next body.

But then, this was Spock. Jim had never had sex with a Vulcan before and, well, the experience was still very new to him. Speaking of which, this was Spock's first experience too. His first experience _ever_.

It was a humbling thought. The fact that Spock had let him… And why the hell did he let him, anyway?

A sudden movement caught Jim's eye. Spock had stopped touching his belly; instead, he raised his hand and brought it up to his lips and after a moment's hesitation, licked the tips of his fingers.

He was tasting their come.

Jim shuddered at the sight.

Forgetting his previous caution, he turned on his side, his full attention on Spock now. He looked at the lean body, (the little he could see in the semi-dark), then he raised his gaze back to Spock's face, noticed the dreamy look in the Vulcan's eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Jim asked, and his voice didn't sound like his own at all. It was huskier -probably because of all the screaming and moaning that Spock had elicited from him a few moments ago.

Spock might be inexperienced, but his instinct had served him well.

"Spock?" Jim insisted.

Spock closed his eyes.

"I am not thinking," he whispered. "I am _feeling_."

Jim gulped.

He was vaguely aware of a voice in the back of his head clamoring at him to get up and flee, (_what is wrong with you? Get out! Now_!), but there he was not really paying attention. He was hooked. He wanted to stay and find out more about Spock; more about this thing that was going on between them.

"Spock? You awake?"

With eyes still closed, Spock turned on his side and wrapped his arm around Jim. Then, after a few tries, he found a very comfortable spot for his head right in the crook of Jim's neck.

Jim was paralized.

"Spock? What are you doing?"

Spock's reply was muffled by Jim's flesh.

"The bed is two narrow for the two of us to lay comfortably side by side," he said.

"Oh," Jim said cautiously. He didn't move for a couple of seconds, then tentatively put his arm around Spock, then more reassuredly. Spock felt surprisingly good in his arms. "Ok, then. Can't argue with logic."

* * *

The end


End file.
